


Little Deaths

by New1Romantic



Category: Hitman (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, When you try to write PWP but plot happens anyway, begins pre-WOA, canon-typical light dom/sub, no beta - we die like 47 just slipped us emetic poison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 09:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30002931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/New1Romantic/pseuds/New1Romantic
Summary: A mission goes wrong, and a line is crossed.When a mission in the alps goes awry, 47 and Diana are forced into proximity with one another. The days that follow will irrevocably change a nearly two-decade companionship. But the past cannot be undone, and they must learn to move forward with the consequences of their actions.
Relationships: Agent 47/Diana Burnwood
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	Little Deaths

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this story for a little while now (about a month) and it's finally at the point where I'm ready to start sharing it. When I first started writing this, it was supposed to be a single one-shot with no plot, but the whole thing has grown way out of proportion.
> 
> Also, I'm writing without a beta. I've gone over it a couple of times, but I apologise for anything I've missed. I also apologise for how British I write (I can't help it), but once we get to Diana POV it'll be basically canon compliant so I'm not _that_ sorry. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy :)

_Welcome to Mount Saint Notburga, 47, home to Austria’s most exclusive ski resort: Das Krähnnest, favoured skiing destination of European royalty. Since it is the summer, the slopes are closed, but the resort is currently at the centre of international news as it hosts this year’s Global Energy Summit._

_Your client is the summit host Ludwig Von Heidleberg, Austrian oil magnate and major shareholder in INTELOS LTD, a shale gas company which has recently been indicted in the cover-up of multiple deaths related to safety breaches at their drilling sites. Our sources suggest that Von Heidleberg’s aim at the summit is to bribe, blackmail and intimidate EU politicians into closing the investigation and to shut down attempts to decrease global reliance on non-renewable resources. Since he cares so little for safety, perhaps it is time for Von Heidleberg to have an accident of his own, wouldn’t you agree?_

_This is a closed event attended by world leaders, so security is on highest alert. Still, I have utmost faith in you._

_Good luck, 47._

The Austrian countryside is undoubtedly beautiful, verdant forests stretching out down the mountain to the valley below. As he stood beside the road, those passing; press, staff, security teams paid him no heed, understanding themselves how enrapturing the view is. In his travels, 47 has seen his share of beautiful vistas, and had learned long ago that sometimes the easiest way to blend in is by standing next to something so breathtaking that nobody takes notice of you. 

The resort itself is a sprawling four-storey building jutting out of the side of the mountain; there was no need for walls to surround the building, with geography doing much of the work of keeping out intruders with sheer cliff on one side and a sharp incline on the other. Despite the fact that he didn’t have an invitation, he looked the part enough that as he strolled casually around the perimeter of the building, nobody thought him out of place. 

He spotted a guard, leaning up against a dustbin in a tight alley between the main resort building and a maintenance outbuilding - the invention of smoking laws had made his job infinitely easier - and promptly dispatched him. The cheap synthetics were always a significant downgrade from his own, tailor made suit, but it made infiltration as simple as pushing open the nearest fire escape and slipping through. As he entered the foyer, people milled past him, paying him no attention.

His attention was drawn to the back of the lobby, where through an ajar into a back office, he noticed a woman in a smart suit talking in hushed tones to someone over the phone. He took his steps carefully, until he stopped, just within hearing distance, squaring his shoulders in the stance of a security guard, gazing outwards into the busy lobby as he listened.

“I put in the order weeks ago, what do you mean they’re out of stock!” She snapped, “I ordered those chocolates three months ago! Mr Von Heidleberg is a highly esteemed customer and he specifically requested your brand be delivered to his hotel suite. I don’t care that there was a fire in the factory, if our client is displeased it will be my head on a spike. No I don’t want a refund, I want you to get me those damn chocolates by any means necessary!”

 _‘Interesting,’_ Diana chimed in, from his earpiece, _‘It seems our target favours a luxury brand of swiss truffles. If you could deliver a box to his room you could get him to take anything you wanted.”_

He filed the information in the back of his mind, and considered how he could use the intel to his advantage. He would need to find a box of the truffles first - or at least, a very convincing fake - and lace them with poison. Then, he would need to acquire a hotel staff uniform and discover the correct hotel suite to deliver them.

First, he decided, he would find out which room was Von Heidleberg’s. From experience, most hotels keep a list of rooms of high profile guests in their security office, in case of emergency (whether that emergency be a fire, a drug overdose or well, him). Since he had the uniform already, it seemed the most efficient start gathering his intel, and would grant him the opportunity to sabotage the CCTV equipment to allow him to move easier around the hotel. Based on the building plans he had been provided with, the security office was on the first floor, behind a set of conference rooms towards the back of the hotel.

He began to move towards a door, helpfully marked with ‘ _zutritt für unbefugte verboten/employees only’_ , into a narrow service corridor that led to a stairwell. As he began to ascend, the earpiece hissed and crackled with static, but Diana said nothing. It was unusual; the earpieces were designed to be as silent as possible, even the slightest distraction at an inopportune moment could be the difference between a successful mission and a dead agent. It was not, however, immediately concerning, especially considering the altitude and its effects on radio signals. He brought his hand to his ear, carefully adjusting the frequency until the noise stopped, before carrying on his way. 

He exited the stairwell into the service corridor for the first floor, just as a guard appeared at the opposite end of the corridor. The hairs stood on the back of his neck and he realised that this man would see something was up unless he moved out of his eyeline immediately. Keeping his head down, his demeanor calm, he walked forward to the nearest door and slipped through before the man was close enough to get a proper look at his face. 

He now found himself in a large dining room part way through being set up. It was empty, thankfully, apart from another security guard across the room, who, when he catches 47’s eye, gives a cheerful nod in acknowledgement. He began a purposeful stride around the perimeter of the room, as a guard doing a security patrol might, in an attempt to make his way closer to the security room. 

The earpiece crackled again, louder, this time, and there were other noises amongst the static, the sound of a door slamming. “ _47, get out,”_ Diana’s voice rose from the white noise, she was shouting, but still it sounded distant, “ _Von Heidleberg isn’t the target, we are.”_ More static, overwhelming, and other noises amongst them; indistinct shouting, a gunshot, “ _SHIT.”_ Static overtook the sound of Diana’s expletive, and then suddenly cut to whining, screaming feetback so bad he ripped the earpiece out, nearly doubled over with the pain. 

He was suddenly clapped on the shoulder, the bodyguard from the other side of the room having approached with a concerned look. “You okay man?” 

Ears still ringing, he clutched the broken earpiece in his fist. “Fine.” He grunted.

The bodyguard narrowed his eyes, “Actually… I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Let me see your ID.” 

Distantly, an alarm went off in the back of his head; his cover was blown, but it no longer really mattered. _We are_ , she had said. Not him, both of them. He turned sharply to find the nearest exit, barely registering the unholstering of a gun. 

“Stay right where you are.” The bodyguard commanded. 

Diana is in danger. Whoever is after them, they might already have her, she might already be-

As he began to run, a bullet grazed past his shoulder, the kind of shot made by a man who has been taught how to use a gun, but had never before been forced to use it. He ignored it. Every guard in the hotel could come after him and he wouldn’t have cared, because Diana was in danger. 

Behind him, he could hear the guard shouting, a description into a radio device. His infiltration, the entire mission, even, is a mess, a failure of a calibre he had never experienced before. It did not matter, however, because losing Diana was a failure he was not willing to allow, would be so devastating that it might break him. As he rounded the outside wall of the resort, he stopped by the dumpster he had stashed the guard who had donated his current disguise. After all, the slick polyester of the bodyguard outfit fit well enough to get by, but his suit was tailor-made for him; and if he intended to find Diana and extract her alive, he would need every advantage possible.

He was acutely aware of the urgency of the situation, that every wasted minute reduces his chances of finding her alive, but he also needed to think. He was not supposed to know where she was situated during missions, but he did know that she had to be within two hundred meters due to the limitations of the short range, encrypted frequency that they used to keep in contact. It was likely she was usually situated closer, even, to reduce the risk of losing contact during a mission. He had heard gunshots through the transmission before it had been cut off, so her safe house was likely isolated, rather than in the nearby village, where the sound would cause too much alarm. 

During mission preparation, he had noted a small number of private ski chalets two miles away from the resort. They were at a slightly higher elevation than the resort, so able to make visual contact with at least part of the resort by using long-range monitoring equipment, and since it was off-season, they would be out of use. It would be his pick as a safehouse.

Of course if he was wrong, the window of opportunity would close and Diana would be dead. If she wasn't already. 

No, now was not the time for doubt; his instincts were a highly honed weapon, following them had not let him down before. 

Upon arrival, he had noted a mountain rescue station complete with all-terrain vehicles packed with first aid kits and supplies, painted with a red cross on the front. At the time, he had considered it as a possible exfiltration strategy, but now it was his only way of reaching the chalets in time to save her. 

Behind him the resort was in chaos, an alarm echoing through the building. He didn’t think it mattered any more that the target had been locked down, the mission itself being little more than a honey trap, a way of luring them to a position where they would be vulnerable to attack, without ICA support - presuming the ICA itself was not involved. He felt no guilt over abandoning the mission as he climbed atop the ATV, speeding off towards the cabins. 

There was a winding road up the mountain to the cabins, and he stuck close to them, veering off close to the top to stay hidden. The chalets were situated in an artificial clearing surrounded by thick forest where he was able to conceal the vehicle for their hopeful escape. 

It became clear quickly that he had chosen correctly; he could still smell gasoline in the air, see fresh tire marks on the road leading into the chalet. The grounds themselves were suspiciously empty however, apart from one cabin, with two guards conspicuously placed at the door and one at the rear, guarding a window. 

47 knew a trap when he saw one, but their opponents would do well not to underestimate his ability to work around them. The mercenary at the rear of the building was dispatched silently, his body stowed in a half-empty container of gritting salt behind the nearby maintenance shed.

He pressed himself flat against the back of the cabin, waiting and watching for any patrols, then, peers through the window. A chair is sat in the middle of a ransacked room, and a woman, undeniably Diana, is tied to it, wrists lashed behind her back, a gag tied so tightly over her mouth he could see red marks where it had dug into her jaw. It took a significant amount of willpower to stay where he was, rather than rush in without looking, to save her from the indignity. He slipped his pocket knife under the window, carefully finding the lock and working the tip of the knife into it until it released with a soft click. 

Silently, he opened the window and slipped through. She turned to him, her face fierce and defiant until she recognised him and her eyes immediately became wide and concerned. He kneeled behind her, carefully undoing the knot of the gag. 

What are you doing here?” She whispered, barely audible even to him beside her. “You do realise they are only keeping me alive until they can confirm that you’ve been killed? You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You can’t have expected me to leave you here.” He responded, cutting through the bindings on her wrist.

“Yes.” She replied quickly and seriously, “That is the protocol.” She stretched her arms as they were freed and winced, rubbing the rope burn on her wrists, while he cut through the bindings around her ankles.

“How many?”

“I counted 8, but there were two cars, so it could be up to 12. Not accounting for any who were sent directly after you.” 

He nodded. “Any idea who?”

She shooks her head, “They have some sophisticated equipment, because they were able to scramble my communication equipment, but the guns-blazing approach hardly seems like their MO.” She didn’t have to explain who ‘they’ were - neither of them trusted their employer more than they needed to, and the ICA could not be ruled out as the culprit.

Outside, one of the guard’s radios crackles to life. “Discovered an unidentified vehicle, engine still hot. Target likely on site.” 

47 scowled and resisted cursing - their best chance of escape had been compromised, and they were now alert to his presence. Their window of escape had narrowed significantly. He glanced at Diana, dressed the part as a high class tourist in a light summer blouse and pastel cotton capris, she was dressed more for a picnic than hiking, but they had to make it work.

His head jerked towards the door suddenly, an instinctive reaction to the slight sound of a key clicking in the lock. Quickly, he pushed Diana low to the floor beneath him, below the line of any stray bullets, and dispatched the two mercenaries with his silverballer before they had even turned enough to see him through the door. There was no point trying to hide the bodies - their escape would be obvious enough as-is, and dragging the corpses would take up valuable seconds they didn’t have.

“There’s heavy tree cover to the east.” He stood and extended a hand to her, helping her to her feet, “Stay close.” 

She nodded, stepping over the bodies without a second look, and braced herself at the door to run at his mark. For a brief second, as they sprinted, low to the ground, towards the cover of the next nearest chalet until they were pressed against the faux-wood exterior, it appeared they would escape unseen. There was no noise, no indication that anyone had seen them, and despite the open, exposed ground before them, if they could just reach the treeline, their likelihood of surviving the encounter would increase tenfold. He glanced back at Diana behind him, motioned towards the edge of the chalet area and she nodded her understanding.

Held up his fingers, 3… 2… 1…

They ran, the shadow of the forest growing closer when- 

‘Targets spotted east to north-east entering forest. In pursuit, over.’

“Fuck!” Diana swore.

“No panicking, go.” He urged, grabbing her wrist and they dash at full tilt towards the forest. 

They ran in a straight line briefly, then using his grip on her, he veered them left sharply in an attempt to throw the trail. He could hear the heavy crunch of undergrowth between combat boots behind them, at least three sets, far too close. If there were only three, he suspected he stood a small but not insignificant chance to take down all of them even with the poor line of sight. Still, if he had calculated wrong and there were more than three, or backup wasn’t far behind, shooting would give away their position instantly, even with a silenced gun.

He turned them sharply right again, then left, before Diana threw her arm out in front of him as they careen to a halt millimeters away from a sheer drop. She glanced at him grimly, and he responded by tightening his grip on her arm briefly. They continue along the edge of the ridge with more care - hopefully their pursuers would throw themselves off the cliff. 

He pulled them below the cover of a thick bramble, and looked over Diana. Her cheeks were pink, she was breathing heavily, but handlers were expected to keep a certain level of physical fitness and skill despite the fact that their jobs are mostly done from behind computers, so she wasn’t overly affected. She glanced at him, jaw set determinedly, but the fear was apparent in the way her eyes darted around the area, scanning for their attackers. It had started to become apparent that they could not simply outrun the danger, but perhaps they would be able to survive if they could misdirect their attackers.

Diana seemed to agree with him, as she quickly darted forward from their hiding place, digging her feet into the soft soil to create shoe impressions. He nodded in agreement and joined, forging a trail that implied they had continued on the soft incline down the mountain rather than the more treacherous path up that they would now have to take. 

Behind them, the sound of shouting echoed through the forest, and they both froze, instinctively ducking low, before Diana took hold of his arm and they began to move. The steep slope they had to climb was challenging, and Diana’s grip on his arm tightened as the rubble loosed beneath her feet, causing her to slip. Her leather boat shoes are less than ideal for hiking, but he has to credit that when she had chosen to wear them, she hadn’t expected to have to traverse a mountain while men with guns tried to kill her. He decided just to be grateful that they were flat, because if she had worn heels, he probably would have had to carry her.

Thankfully, the incline evened out reasonably quickly, so they could increase their pace and she didn’t have to rely on him so much to keep her up. Once he felt they had made good headway, he took out his gun, aiming for where he reasonably thought they would be if they had followed the easier path and fired a clip through the trees in the hope that the movement of the bullets through the foliage would lead the men further down the wrong path. Without stopping to see if it had worked, they continued through the tree cover. He slowed their pace, eased it off until they were walking at a sharp clip, trying to keep their stamina from waning too quickly. 

Without a proper mountain trail, the journey was a struggle, stepping over the roots of ancient trees snaking through the ground, walking over sheets of vines and thick plants which their feet would sink into, causing them to stumble. 

A sharp crack reverberated through the forest, and Diana was suddenly digging her nails into his forearm as she slipped away, the thick bed of tree roots beneath them breaking under her feet, sending her over the edge of the slope. Within seconds she was too far away to pull back up safely, barely within his grasp, so he made the decision to throw himself towards her instead, squaring his shoulders to brace against the impact as they went tumbling down the incline together. Somewhere in the mad scramble and impact, he managed to wrap his arms around her, pressing her head into his chest to protect her from the worst of the fall.

They reach a stop, covered by long grass and thicket that conceals them from all but the closest of scrutiny. There is silence, save for Diana’s gasps for breath and his own harsh breathing. His heart was thumping in his chest, and he let out a slow, long breath to try and lower it. 

“I think they’ve moved on.” Diana whispered, and the sound of her voice rattled through the silent forest. Instead of answering, he placed a hand over her mouth, a silent request. _Wait_. Handlers were trained for extreme patience. Intelligence gathering, infiltration and planning was a long process, often weeks at a time - but it was nothing like this. Waiting with the bitter sting of adrenaline in your mouth, muscles burning with unused energy, coiled and ready to run was a skill difficult to master. 

He was already mostly on top of her where he had protected her as they had fallen during their desperate escape. He pressed down on top of her protectively, bracketing her with his arms and legs, as much to protect her from sight as her own instincts, the fight-or-flight instinct vibrating through her. He could see the whites of her eyes as she stared wide-eyed at him, the puffs of her breath against his glove. Pressing down on her like this, he could feel her heart in her chest, her pulse in her neck and despite his highly honed control, the sensation overwhelmed him. 

He looked away from her, focusing into his instincts, attempting to detect the signs of anyone else nearby - the sound of voices or footfall, changes in the light as branches are pushed aside. There was nothing, they seemed to be well and truly alone in this ditch, their pursuers either tricked by their misdirection or presuming they died in the fall. If that were the case, not confirming the kill would have been unforgivably sloppy.

He slackened his hold over her mouth, although he didn’t remove it entirely. “We should be safe here. For now.” There’s a strict balance to be kept to; move too soon, they risk walking back into danger; stay too long and they become sitting ducks, but he finds himself content staying here on top of Diana for a little longer. 

The spike of adrenaline eased as the danger subsided, so he allowed himself to look at her. They had spent a scant few minutes in each other’s company for years - mostly consisting of brief eye-contact (if that) during surreptitious handovers in crowded spaces. She had been his constant companion since his earliest memories before the blackness of his youth, after escaping that hospital, yet they were constantly reduced to strangers on opposite ends of a Parisian coffee shop, leaving coded messages in the crossword of a discarded newspaper. But now he could look at her, seek out the eye contact that would have given too much away during those brief moments. 

She’s older, obviously, and it suits her. She always had old eyes; a wary, experience-worn expression. Those eyes had once looked too much for her young face, but they look right now, and she holds herself with gravitas and elegance. Even here, buried in undergrowth, dirt smeared with scratches over her face, she looks austere, as regal as she does fearsome.

Her hair, which had tumbled loose from her bun at some point during their escape, was messy around her head. He took his hand from over her face to carefully extract a twig from where it had tangled in her fiery locks. This proved to be a vital misstep, revealing her mouth, open in a soft O as she breathes softly. They were lying almost nose-to-nose, and if her breath was hot through his glove, it felt positively scorching on his face. Her lips were red and slightly swollen from the harsh conditions as they ran, her mouth wet and glistening in the dappled sunlight. 

He hesitated, his hand hovering millimeters away from her face. It was suddenly all too much; the voice in his ear made real: the Diana here was his most trusted confidant, his other half. At some point in the decades since they had met, he had begun to consider her his human half, the guardian angel sitting on his shoulder, whispering to him where there had only been silence and meaningless killing. Now she was here, warm flesh beneath him, watching him with hungry eyes and a pink mouth. 

Stress hormones are an intoxicating drug, intense situations like these make humans act impulsively, put themselves in danger in ways that they wouldn’t normally, it’s something that he counts on. Her hands shook as she reached up to the hand hovering above her face, her touch delicate as she removed his glove. She kept her eyes on him, her pupils dilated, no hint of the panicked whites of her eyes from moments before.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he leaned into her anyway, cupping the side of her face, tracing the shape of her cheekbone with his thumb. She gasped, a soft puff, her eyes closing as she eased into the touch. Her skin was soft and warm, and he was entranced. This could be his only opportunity to see her face-to-face like this and his fingers traced the shape, down her jawline with a singular determination to commit it to memory. He brushed a finger against her bottom lip, admiring the glint of teeth and tongue as he eased her mouth open. 

He should not have underestimated Diana Burnwood, expected her to be a passive player. It was the cards she dealt him that he used to complete the mission, her hand that guided his. She was watching him again, a fixed desire in her eyes as her mouth opened, catching his finger between her teeth and drawing it into her mouth. 

The air was cool, contrasting intensely with the wet heat of her body. It broke something inside him, and he released a harsh groan. He felt as much as saw the smirk on her face as he began to lose control under her attention. He couldn’t help but press into the sensation as she sucks on his finger, laving it with her tongue as if it were something else in her mouth. 

“ _Fuck_.” He whispered, a prayer in reverence to her. Her leg eased upwards, pressing her thigh against his groin. He groaned again, the sudden pressure and friction bringing the wants of his body much more sharply into focus, and his erection strains inside his boxers, his hips rolling forward against the sensation. She released his fingers with a wet pop, and he wasted no time using them to unbutton her blouse, barely restraining himself from tearing it off her with the knowledge that they would need to leave here with some semblance of decency. 

“Why 47,” She purred, her voice low and rich with arousal, “Why don’t you show me what those hands can do when put to good use hmm?” She had teased him on missions in the past, salacious comments whispered into his ear in good humour. But with her here, the words had a different feeling to them, somehow, dark and rich, almost hypnotic. He turned his attention to her body, determined to take her apart at her own orders. 

Her skin was pale and soft under his hands, running his fingers up her stomach and tracing the base of her ribs, the flesh pliant but firm, belying a hidden strength to her that most would miss. Her bra was a delicate, lacy thing - probably expensive - but he hardly cared to commit it to memory when it was hiding the true prize beneath. The fabric was soft enough that he could tug it down enough to free her breasts. He cupped them delicately in his hands, revelling in the sensation, feeling the way her chest moved as her breathing hitched in anticipation. Her nipples were dusky and pert, from cold or arousal, probably both, and he teased one in between his thumb and forefinger, watching the shudder that travels down her at the sensation.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, resting on his heels. She whined softly at the back of her throat, arching her back to try and reach him - he couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Despite that, he couldn’t say he doesn't enjoy the view; his Diana, spread out in front of him, rumpled and so unlike the impeccably prim image she cultivated. She was flushed pink with exertion and arousal, and he followed the bloom from her face and throat lower, where it spread across her chest, rising and falling with her ragged breathing.

He shrugged his jacket off, laying it on the ground and carefully maneuvered them so her hips were resting on top of the jacket. She smiled at him, sultry and deliberate, “Italian tailoring, how luxurious.” She rolled her hips downwards into it, not unlike the way a cat might make itself comfortable on a pillow. “Do you spoil all your women like this, or am I special?” She teased. 

His brow furrows, focusing in on her. “You’re special.” The words tumbled from his mouth and he was on her again, holding her head in his hands as he lowered his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. She responded in kind, fisting his shirt to pull him as close as possible. He shifted his weight, slipping between her legs, and she easily parted for him, closing her thighs around his hips to keep him close.

She undoes the buttons on his shirt with deft fingers, and runs her hands across the lines of his muscles, sharp nails grazing his skin. Kissing her was a mistake, because he couldn’t stop, as if salvation can be found just behind her teeth. Her hands drifted lower, and he felt her fingers fumble between them, finding the catch of his belt and opening it. Then her hands dove greedily beneath the waistline of his underwear and he broke the kiss to gasp for air. He could feel her smirk against his lips as she runs soft fingers up the length of his dick. 

“ _Well_ ,” She whispered into his ear, her voice laced with a sultry kind of amusement, “Isn’t this a _big_ surprise.” She wrapped her hand around him and squeezed gently, the sensation of pressure so close to what he needs. He grunted and thrusted into her hand eagerly. She runs her thumb over the tip, gathering the precum gathered and spreading it over the head. She groaned, “God I can’t wait to have this inside me.” She muttered, almost more to herself than to him.

He growled, deep in his chest, shifting downwards in order to divest her of the trousers and underwear which are currently stopping him from being buried inside her. She let out a delighted gasp, raising her feet to help him undress her. The scent of her arousal hits him, sharp and heavy in the air around them and he found himself salivating in response. Her ankles were resting on his shoulders, which afforded him an enticing view of her cunt framed by her thighs. He used a finger to part her labia, wet with arousal, tracing her clit, which caused her to cry out in pleasure and squirm. 

He longed to taste her, to bury his head between her legs until she screams, and he sincerely hoped he would have the chance to do so, but they are both too on edge now, too close to breaking to change the momentum they have built up. 

She shifted downwards and tilted her hips up in encouragement, bringing them closer together. “I swear to god, 47, if you don’t fuck me right this instant I will lie you down and fuck you myself.” She whined.

Never one to disobey a direct order, he lined himself up quickly and roughly brought their hips together. The sensation is so intense that it's almost too much in that moment; she had barely touched him but this in itself feels like the culmination of _something,_ something possibly years in the making. Diana was not unaffected either, her eyes were rolled back, her usually quick mouth open and slack jawed, her back curved into a beautiful arch. His pace was hard, desperate even, and he wouldn’t last much longer, but they were both so close already, that it didn’t matter.

Her thighs were trembling, she was twitching around him, signs of how near to the edge she is. He shifted to get a deeper angle, lifting her hips off the ground and increasing his pace, chasing her orgasm, desperate for the sensation of her coming around his dick. The sound she made was almost a scream in pleasure, as her ankles tighten around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, deeper. He watched entranced as her eyes became unfocused, her body going limp briefly just before her orgasm crests and she tenses all at once. He allowed himself to let go, burying himself deep inside her as he comes. 

He stayed deep inside her for a good moment as they both gasped for air. Eventually, her legs slipped from his shoulders and she reached up to pull him on top of her, pressing her face into his neck as her body is wracked with the after effects of her orgasm.

“We should move.” He finally admits. “It’s not safe to stay in one place too long.” 

A rather undignified expression briefly crossed her face. “You’re right. Of course.” She sighed, reluctantly shifting away from him to sit up and fished her underwear and capris from where he had discarded them. 

He watched her as she dressed with the kind of dignity usually reserved for five-star hotels rather than forest floors. “Well, now the cat’s out the bag, as it were.” She said, buttoning up her blouse, “I can’t say I’ve not fantasized about fucking you in a forest, but not usually as the first time.” 

He blushed and looked away in embarrassment, focusing on inspecting his jacket. The lush red silk lining was stained with a mix of their fluids, and probably beyond saving. He balled it up and tossed it to the side, but the embarrassment remained, making the moment feel excruciatingly long.

He can feel her eyes on him. “Have you? Thought about it, I mean?” It’s subtle, but he could hear concern creeping into her voice, doubt, perhaps, that he had wanted it beyond the adrenaline spike that had fuelled their coupling. 

He fixed his eyes at a point in the distance, a bird perched on a tree, rather than face looking at her, but he answered. “At times.” He admitted, voice strained, “But I try not to indulge myself too much.” 

She sighed softly, turning him to face her with a gentle hand on his shoulder. She touched his face softly, caressing his cheek, and kissed him with heart wrenching tenderness. “You deserve to be happy.” She whispered to him. 

He swallowed, “We’re losing light.” He said instead of replying. “We should try to find some kind of shelter.”

“I think there’s a village a few miles due north. Hopefully we will be safe there, if we manage to find it.” 

He nodded, “Let’s go.” And they began walking.

At first, they kept their distance, walking politely side by side, but by the time they finally reached a road, with dusk quickly approaching, Diana had him by the arm, as if they were taking an evening stroll. When they finally reached a payphone, Diana looked ready to cry in relief. 

While she made a phone call, he stalked the perimeter. The payphone was just outside a run-down petrol station, a relic from the 70s or 80s where the stench of oil had embedded itself into the very concrete. By all appearances it was closed for the evening and vacant, but there were still countless places for someone to hide. He paced, tense and ready to strike, as the sound of Diana speaking soft, fast Mandarin to the phone.

After some time, she placed the phone down heavily. “15 minutes walk. A friend of mine has arranged a last minute accommodation at an AirBnB in the village. So the story goes, we had a last minute flight change and ended up too early for our reservation at a local hotel, so we needed somewhere to stay suddenly. Not that we’ll have to tell anyone the story, that’s the benefit to these room rental things, nobody meets you. You get a code for a box which contains the key, you stay, you leave. It’s remarkably easy to set up a fake profile, nobody will know we were ever there.” She took his arm once, and began walking briskly up the road.

“Apart from your friend.” He replied warily.

“A trusted ally.” She assured him.

“Not ICA, I assume.” 

She gave him a sour look, offended at the implication, “Of course not. I have my own contacts and assets, away from even the prying eyes of the ICA. I’m sure you do similar.”

“Hm.” He acquiesced. “Although I don’t have the ability to accrue social capital like you do.” 

She laughed lightly and pats him on the arm, “Don’t worry. I think you’re charming.” She has begun to sound tired, the hours of hiking finally catching up now that they’re almost able to rest. As they walked, she leaned into him more, and he suspected it had more to do with fatigue than a desire to be close to him. Subtly, he took more of her weight using his arm around her waist to support her but if she noticed it, she didn't say anything. 

Their accommodation, when they finally arrived, was tolerable, if a step down from the five-star hotels that they typically frequented - a cramped terrace on one of the two roads that made up the village. Once they had found the key, and 47 had combed the house to make sure it was safe, Diana nigh-on collapsed onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and leaving them haphazardly where they fell. 

“Well.” She sighed, “Today could have gone better.” 

“We’re alive.” He reminded her. She was alive - it had come too close. 

“True…” Her eyes lingered on him briefly, “In the end I’d say it had some perks.” She began stripping her blouse off, “God, I’m going to be glad to get out of these clothes. I hope this place has a bath, I would kill for one of those tomorrow.” 

He looked away politely as she flung her shirt to the side, “I’ll find a blanket for the sofa.”

She scoffed, “Really, 47? I hope you’re not trying to be polite for my benefit.” 

He knows that people do things in the heat of the moment that they later regret. “I don’t like to make assumptions.” 

“Well I won’t stop you if you want to sleep on the sofa. But there’s plenty of room in the bed, and I hear the company isn’t bad either.” She teased. 

The idea of sleeping next to her was alluring. It was normal, domestic, something normal people did. To her credit, Diana was not waiting for him, but simply getting ready for bed, and it was reassuring to know that there was no pressure. 

Cautiously, he made his way over to the bed, sitting rigidly beside her to remove his shoes. 

Her smile was fond and disarmingly unguarded. “You’re not going to sleep fully dressed, are you?” She asked, “Personally I’d rather wear nothing than those same clothes I’ve been trekking in all day.” This much was obvious, as she was already naked. “Unless, of course, you’d be more comfortable like that.” 

Alarmingly, he realized she was genuinely asking him. He would do anything at her request, and she obviously knows it - her tone was careful and unassuming, so much unlike the Diana who whispers in his ear. It left him adrift, briefly; the mere concept of a choice wholly his own, free from influence or consequence. It was a testament to his self control that his hands didn’t shake as he began to unbutton his waistcoat. 

She turned off the bedside lamp, plunging them into darkness besides the dim light of the moon outside. He slipped under the bedcovers and eased himself down to a lying position, agonizingly aware of her body next to his. Despite his unnaturally high stamina, the danger has passed and the exhaustion finally hit all at once, his eyes slipping closed. 

He felt the bed shift as she turned, her soft lips fluttering against his forehead.

“Sweet dreams, 47.” 

And he knew no more.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment, let me know what you think. I'm also on tumblr at SkylightPirate if yall wanna hang out
> 
> I'm hoping to update like, once a week, but I have a pretty demanding job where I work shifts so there's a chance the gap will be wider if I don't have the chance to write.


End file.
